A Weasley Christmas
by EiSeL
Summary: ONESHOT Hermione visits the Burrow after years of avoiding HIM. Will she be able to take it? Please read and review!


* * *

A/N: Hello, all! I'm back and recovering from scary exams and high school drama... sigh Oh, well. I know it's compltely after the fact, but here's a fic that I wrote a while ago and tried to get it finished by Christmas but it just wasnt going to happen. Sorry! 

Ok, well, enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: It all belongs to Jo Rowling- not me.

**

* * *

A Weasley Christmas**

I switched my purse over to the same hand as my suitcase and knocked tentatively on the aged oak door in front of me. I looked up to the grey sky and felt the frozen condensation fall onto my rosy cheeks, eliciting a sensation akin to a kiss.

Ah, the snow. The very thought of snow brought a flood of memories into my mind. My first steps…falling asleep on my father's shoulder while lying in front of a fire…baking biscuits with Mum… building snowmen on the Hogwarts grounds with Harry and Ron…going to Hogsmeade with Ron… the Yule Ball… the first time Ron kissed m-

"Hermione!" exclaimed Bill Weasley as he enveloped me in a bear hug, smashing my face against his chest. "It's so good to see you! Come on in!" He took a step back yelled down the hall. "Hermione's here!"

I heard someone's muffled voice faintly in the distance. "Really? I couldn't tell when you screamed her name loud enough to wake the dead just a moment ago."

"George, mind your attitude," scorned Molly.

I smiled and walked in the door. Bill leaned down and took my luggage from me. "They're all in the den," he said as he set my bags at the foot of the stairs.

"Okay, thanks, Bill," I said as I loosened my scarf and pulled off my gloves and hat. I had no less than five seconds of preparing myself for an onslaught of Weasley's before Molly appeared in front of me, reached up, and embraced me tightly.

"Hermione! Oh, Hermione, dear, how are you? Here, let me take your coat," she said as she pretty much ripped the garment off of me.

Bill laughed from behind me. "Don't kill her, Mum."

She hugged me one more time before leading me down the hall, telling me how lovely I looked and asking how things were. Then, we entered the den.

It was a blur- a warm, inviting blur of smiling faces and red hair. I didn't even know who was asking me how I was or who was telling me how wonderful it was to see me. That's how it always is at the Burrow. It didn't matter who it was- you always felt welcome and loved.

Then, a man walked in from another room carrying a giggling redheaded little boy on his shoulders and had a Santa Claus hat on his head. I couldn't see the man- his back was to me.

"Okay, Sam, time to go back to Mummy. Uncle Ron's getting tired," he said as he handed the boy back to Ginny.

Ron.

He was there.

Well, of course he was there. It's his house.

He had been growing a goatee out again and the maroon Weasley jumper hanging loosely on his chest looked well-worn. He pulled off the Santa hat and his hair was terribly messy. It made me want to just run my hand through it and-

"Mione, will you quit staring? It's just a bit unnerving," he said, crossing his arms and smirking at me.

I tried my best to pull on a smile as he walked over and gave me a hug that rivaled Bill's. My face was pressed up against his hard chest and I couldn't help but breathe in his scent- a scent I knew anywhere.

Cedar, soap, chocolate, peppermint- Ron.

It took me a while before I realized that every single eye was on the two of us, besides maybe Sam, who was sucking his thumb and flying a toy dragon through the air in front of him.

Just then, a set of two little boys and a girl came running into the room, breaking the silence.

"I said, give it back!" screamed the little girl who was chasing the two boys in front of her.

"Silly little Susie and her book. What's so great about books anyway?" asked the eldest boy.

"Yeah, what's so great about books anyway?" asked the younger boy, standing directly beside who I assumed was his brother.

"Shut it, Ed," said the eldest, warningly.

Susie brought her hands to her hips and brushed a stray hair out of her face. "I read books so that I'll never be as stupid as you!"

"Hey!" said the older boy, clearly offended. "I should just throw this into the fireplace!" he said, dangling the book in front of her face.

"You will not, Nigel Christopher Weasley!" bellowed Charlie from the corner. Nigel cringed back in fear and handed the book to Susie straight away, who took it gleefully, hopped onto the sofa, and snuggled up to Percy to read.

"They're a wild bunch," said Ron, chuckling to himself. "So how've you been? It's been a while," he said, running his hand through his auburn locks and doing absolutely nothing to lay them straight.

"Yeah, it has," I replied, laughing nervously. I looked past Ron's shoulder to the Christmas tree. The tree itself was too tall for the room- the top was bent so that it curved along the ceiling. It was littered with handmade ornaments that had miraculously withstood the tests of time.

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "So, um…"

I jumped a bit as something grabbed a hold of my leg. I looked down to see Sam clutching my calf, still flying the toy dragon through the air and making appropriate sound effects.

I looked up at Ron- he was watching Sam lovingly. I had always thought that Ron would make a good father. I sighed, leaned down, picked him up. "Hello, Sammy."

Sam only stuck his fingers in his mouth and leaned his head against my shoulder in reply.

Ginny walked up and attempted grab her son from my arms. "Hey, sorry he got away."

"Oh, honestly, Ginny, you know I don't mind it at all," I laughed as I moved Sam to my other hip.

Sam held up his toy in front of my face for me to see it. "Daggon," he said proudly.

I nodded and smiled. "Yes, that is a dragon."

"Dinner's ready!" called Molly from the kitchen. I stepped aside to avoid the mad dash of Weasley men towards the kitchen and handed Sam to Harry, who I hadn't even noticed was there.

"Harry! I didn't see you! Have you been here all this time?" I asked.

"Yeah, I gave you a hug earlier," he said, grinning.

I shook my head. "Oh, well, I must've missed you. How've you been?" I asked.

"You mean since I last saw you a week ago?"

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, fine. I was just trying to be friendly…"

Harry laughed. "I've been pretty good," he said as Sam bopped him in the face with his toy. "Ouch!"

I gasped as I saw a red spot forming on Harry's forehead. "Oh my God, are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the spot with one hand and struggling to keep a suddenly very squirmy Sam in his grasp. "It's not the first time."

"Harry, I think it's swelling…" I said as we made it into the kitchen. Almost everyone was sitting down already, picking at the dishes and sneaking small bits of food when Molly had her back turned. Harry sat down beside Ginny and handed Sam over to her while I looked for somewhere to sit.

And, as fate would have it, the only chair left was beside the one person that I was trying to avoid. "Mione, come sit by me!" called Ron over the roar of the kitchen.

Merlin, what did I do wrong?

I sighed and began to walk around the huge table that was miraculously able to still fit all of the Weasley's with a few seats to spare.

This was going to be one hell of a Christmas.

* * *

I flipped over on my side and squinted to see the clock on the wall.

12:03. Damn.

I swung my feet over the side of the bed, put on my dressing gown and slippers, and walked groggily down the stairs towards the kitchen, the soft yellow glow of the light pouring out the door.

I peered into the room and saw Harry, in plaid pajama bottoms and a purple Weasley Wizarding Wheezes t-shirt, standing over the stove. He turned around just as he was pouring hot water out of the kettle. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

I sat down at the massive kitchen table and curled my feet underneath me. "Nope."

"Yeah, me either. Ginny tends to hog the blankets." I smiled. Harry pulled a cup down from the cupboard and waved it towards me. "Want a cuppa?"

"I'd love one." I rubbed my eyes and yawned as Harry came and sat down beside me. I carefully took a sip of my tea to test the temperature and was relieved when it didn't burn my lips. We sat and drank in silence

Harry ran his hand over his hair in a failing attempt to flatten it. "So, uh, are you ever going to talk to him?"

My heartbeat went out of pattern for a moment. "Talk to whom?" I asked, playing dumb.

"Come on, Hermione- I made you tea," he whined.

I sighed. "There's nothing to talk about. We're just friends and that's how it should be."

Harry leaned back in his chair and ran his finger around the rim of the cup. "I have been around you two since I was eleven years old. The three of us have been through more together than most people will in a lifetime." He looked up at me and laced his finger together. "I know you, Hermione, and something's not right."

It was times like these when I felt like we were back in school. Right after Ron and I would have one of our rows, Harry would never fail be the one that would always be there to talk some sense into me, even and most especially when I was too stubborn to openly take it to heart. Unfortunately, it meant that he could read me like a book.

I looked up at him, tears prickling behind my eyes, and exhaled shakily. "I'm not over him, okay?" I felt a tear fall out of my eye and trickle down my cheek before quickly wiping it away. "I thought that staying away from him all these years would make me forget how much I want him- how much I love him. But I can't hide from his memory."

"You lot alright?" asked a voice from the door that I immediately recognized. Merlin. Of all times, he chose right then to come down to the kitchen. I stared down into the teacup. I didn't look at him- I couldn't.

"Yeah, Ron- we're fine. Go back to bed," said Harry.

Ron grunted. I didn't lift my head until I heard the faint squeak of a loose floorboard on the stairs.

I glanced at Harry. He was staring at me sympathetically. "Do you want me to sit up with you?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, I'm going to head up to bed."

"You sure?"

I nodded and got up slowly. "Yeah." I set my cup in the sink and walked out of the kitchen. "G'night, Harry."

* * *

I heaved myself up the stairs to my room. Harry had gone back into Ginny's room after hugging me goodnight. I walked past the door labeled "Ronald's Room", stopped, and sighed downheartedly.

It had been so wonderful back then. All those years ago, at Bill and Fleur's wedding reception, Ron, with Harry's help, finally came to his senses, pulled me aside, and snogged me senseless under the gazebo. He was tall and lanky, his mismatched dress robes didn't quite fit him, and he had a bit of chocolate smeared on his lower lip. But he had been mine. It was the best day of my life.

I looked up at the door and smiled weakly before I made my way towards my room.

Then, three or four steps past Ron's door, I felt the floor give a little before it made a terribly long, terribly loud squeak.

I froze. I had forgotten about that board. I was completely still and listened for a moment.

Nothing.

I let out the breath of relief. Carefully, I padded down the hall until I was in sight of my room's door. I had just turned the knob when I heard the creak of hinges. I saw my silhouette on the floor with a faint glowing blue light falling around me.

"Bugger," I muttered under my breath.

"Mione, is that you?"

I turned around to see Ron holding his lit wand. His hair was mussed, his eyelids were heavy, and he was wearing a hideously orange Chudley Canons pajama set. He would have looked like a little boy if it wasn't for the goatee.

"Yeah, Ron. It's me," I whispered as to not wake anyone else.

Ron opened his mouth and then closed it again. "Oh. Okay."

"Yeah," I said as I looked down at my slippers.

He scratched his chin. "Couldn't sleep?"

"No."

"Me either."

I nodded. I wanted so badly to just run into my room and escape from Ron's eyes.

His eyes were my weakness- they always had been. It was his eyes that made the world go away. I could get so lost in them that I would sometimes forget to breathe.

"Are you okay now?" he asked.

"What?" I asked, falling out of my trance.

"You seemed upset down in the kitchen. Are you okay now?"

"Oh," I breathed. "Yeah, I'm fine." Not.

Ron nodded and his arm holding his wand drooped a little. "Well, good."

An awkward silence passed.

"So, um, goodnight, Ron," I said as I turned the handle of the door once again.

"Wait," he said as I stepped into the room.

I popped my head out the door again. "Yeah?"

"Are you going to go to sleep?" he asked timidly.

I stepped out the door and attempted to run a hand through my tangle-ridden hair. "Probably not."

Ron nodded. "Okay," he said, arm drooping a little more.

"Yeah…"I said, looking back at the floor.

He scratched his stomach and his shirt rode up, showing a sliver of skin below the hem. "Do you want to come into my room? You know, keep each other company since we can't sleep."

"I…" I stuttered. "Sure."

His wand cast a shadow of a smile on his face before it was quickly, forcefully, pulled away.

"Okay, let me just get something from my room."

I stepped into my room and looked into the mirror. "What is your problem?" I breathed to my reflection. This is the kind of confrontation I had been avoiding for years. Why did I say yes?

I brought my hands up to my face and rubbed my eyes in effort to calm my nerves.

I grabbed my pillow off of the bed and headed back out the door into the hall, where Ron was standing mid-yawn. He quickly shut his mouth and tugged the hem of his shirt down once noticed my presence.

I stepped past him into his room and stood there. It hadn't changed a bit. The walls were jammed with Quidditch posters, candy wrappers littered the floor, and a terrarium filled with some questionable substance was sitting on a desk.

Ron walked in and sat down hesitantly on his bed. He lay back and laced his fingers together on his stomach.

"You can come lay down, you know."

I took a deep breath and walked over to his bed. I sat down and lay back, springs squeaking loudly underneath me.

All was silent.

"Okay, what was the best thing you've ever gotten from Christmas?" I heard Ron ask beside me.

"What?" I asked in startled confusion.

Ron chuckled. "Random- I know. I'm just trying to make conversation."

"Oh."

Immediately, I thought of the gold locket that hung around my neck. Ron had given it to me the first Christmas we had shared together. I still hadn't taken it off in the two years we had been apart…just like I hadn't let go of the man lying beside me.

"When I was seven, my grandmother sent me a music box. Every time the lid was opened, a ballerina figurine would spin and music would play."

He was silent for a moment. "I never took you for a music box kind of girl."

I looked over towards him. "What were you expecting- a collection of encyclopedias?"

"Well, yeah, sort of."

I rolled my eyes and shoved him lightly.

Ron laughed. "Okay, sorry."

"So what about you?"

Ron sighed. "When I was ten years old, I got my first broom. It wasn't new, and it wasn't the brightest, shiniest thing out there. But I remember being so happy about it. I could finally play Quidditch like the Chudley Canons."

I smiled. He was still such a little boy on the inside. It was one of the many things I loved about him.

The wind whirled outside the frost covered window. I pulled my dressing gown more tightly around me.

"You cold?" I heard Ron ask, barely above a whisper.

I didn't even have to say a word before Ron leaned down and pulled his previously discarded covers up around us.

I had never felt more incomplete in my entire life. There I was, underneath Ron's stack of old quilts with him, in such close proximity that I could feel his breath on my face. And I couldn't have him, even though he was so very, very close. I sighed.

"It almost feels like we're in school again, doesn't it?" I asked.

Ron let out a tired breath. "Yeah." It was quiet besides his hand coming up and ruffling his hair.

"So, uh, what's going on, Mione? You've been avoiding me like the Plague," he chuckled awkwardly.

My breath caught in my throat. "Avoiding you? I haven't been… avoiding you."

"You never were a good liar." The mattress bounced beneath us as Ron shifted.

I knew this was going to happen. I knew he was going to want to talk about what happened between us. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, mustering all the Gryffindor courage I had. "You've been acting as if nothing has happened between us," I whispered.

"What do you mean by that?"

"From the very minute I got here, you've been acting like you never- we never… broke up."

"Mione-"

"I just don't understand, Ron. How can you go on like that? I don't know how you can pretend like that!"

"Pretending? Wha-"

"_Damn it_, Ron-I loved you! I still love you," I said, feeling the pressure of tears fighting to escape my eyes. "What _ever_ made you think that we could just be friends?"

He was quiet. "I don't know-"

I rolled my eyes and attempted to remove some of the wetness from them. "If you didn't know then why did you do it?"

"Mione, there was a bloody war going on!"

I huffed indignantly. "I think I noticed, _Ronald_."

Ron brought his arms to his chest. "Don't 'Ronald' me, _Hermione_."

"What did going to war have anything to do with it?" I felt a hot tear roll down my cheek and onto the sheets, leaving a salty track in its place.

Ron exhaled loudly. "We were getting too attached to each other."

I frowned up towards the ceiling. "Too attached? What in _hell _is that supposed to mean?" I asked, my voice becoming steadily louder. "We've known each other since we were eleven years old- we couldn't get much more attached!"

"What if something had happened to us, to you?"

"Then something would have happened to us! What- did you think that because we had broken up that I wouldn't have mourned your death?"

"Well-"

I heard a sharp knock from the wall on the other side of the room. I looked up, not quite knowing what to expect to see, but looked up all the same. There was a muffled voice that said something that sounded vaguely like "shut up".

I dropped my head back down on my pillow after a somewhat steadying breath and dragged my hands across my face. "So, now what?" I asked quietly.

I waited and listened to both of our breathing- mine heavy and quick and his, slow and deep.

There was a creak of bedsprings before Ron leaned over and pressed his lips firmly against mine.

I was so shocked that it took my mind a few moments to even register the fact that he was kissing me. The feeling itself was so foreign to me, never mind the fact that it was Ron who was doing it.

He pulled back a bit and looked at me with his glistening cobalt eyes, as if asking for permission, while wiping the tears from my eyes with his calloused thumb. I smiled lightly, reached my arm around his neck, and pulled his lips to mine once more.

* * *

The clock on the wall ticked in the distance.

I looked down at Ron, whose prickly chin was resting on my stomach. I reached down and laced my fingers in his hair as he traced lazy circles on my skin.

"I love you," I breathed, feeling the wave of content wash over me the moment the words escaped my lips.

Ron looked up and grinned. "I love you, too." He kissed the skin just above my belly button before he crawled up the bed, spooned himself against me, and pulled the covers up to our chins.

He pulled my hair to the side and tenderly kissed the skin below my ear. "Merry Christmas, 'Mione."


End file.
